Arbeit Macht Frei: Work Will Make You Free
by BobbiAlyss
Summary: Had death not effected his mind so deeply, Ludwig would not be having nightmares. Hearing voices. Hallucinating. Full summary inside. Rated M for violence, language, gore, Nazism, BDSM, abuse, sexual situations, rape, and alcoholism.
1. Chapter 1

"Men, take off your outerwear. Women, strip completely."  
How could a voice sound so harsh yet so amused simultaneously?  
He pondered over this as he watched the Jews helplessly obey. They stood in a line on the edge of a dock. Below, the clear, blue ocean swayed in an almost hypnotic fashion.  
All of nature seemed to mock their current situation. After weeks of continuous rain, today the sun shone brightly. Birds chirped. It nearly brought a smile to his face at how ironic all of it was, but the scene was far too grim to permit such actions, for he knew this scene all too well. Rob them blind; ridicule and ruin their women. Degrade the restrained men who could do naught but watch. Corrupt the children, and then deliver the blessing of death to them all.  
Ludwig observed it all silently, his MP '38 held loosely in his hands. He honestly didn't know for who he held more pity: the frightened, defenseless Jews, shaking and naked, or his own men. His disgusting, cowardly team of men. Bloodthirsty martyrs, the Nazis were howling with laughter at the display, taunting the Jews in belligerent German. Ludwig had stopped being shocked by the act years ago. He'd ceased to feel actual sorrow months prior. All he knew anymore was disgust. Pure, violent disgust that began in his abdomen and built up, rising higher. Vengeful disgust that he had to smother and subdue, otherwise they'd hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it emanating from every step and every breath that he took. He could barely contain it; many times, he contemplated killing them all. Imagined raising his own gun to each of the Nazis' heads and pulling the trigger in a magnificent display of bloody brutality. But those were mere thoughts he'd never act upon. In a way, he was as cowardly as everyone else there.  
"Heil!"  
Ludwig and the others turned to see the source of the voice, though Ludwig could recognize it from a mile away.  
The Nazis raised their right arm rigidly, shouting in unison, "Heil Hitler!" The albino smiled and gave a small military salute in response. "And hail my brother," he replied, sauntering over to Ludwig, "For giving us this beautiful assortment of Jews."  
"Beautiful, hm?" Ludwig raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, to which the man just smirked.  
"I'm in a good mood today, brother; I've come to join the fun," he wrapped his arm around Ludwig's shoulders, eyeing the Jews hungrily.  
Gilbert was a predator. A hunter. And more of a killer than any of the men there would ever be. Remorseless and sanguinary, he viewed war as a sport. Killing, a game. Ludwig held no hate for his brother, nor could he ever. Just mild sadness, with a twinge of sympathy and rejection.  
Gilbert strode up to a Nazi, hissing in irritation, "Give me your gun, you idiot!" Once handed the pistol, he went to the right end of the line of Jews and, holding the gun to the first woman's head, gleefully called out, "Time to exterminate~!"  
Ludwig inwardly groaned. The Extermination Game was a cruel game Gilbert invented, in which two men would start at opposite ends of a Jew line and shoot them, one by one, in the head. The person in the middle got two bullets. Thankfully, Ludwig never had to participate. But he watched - he always watched.  
With another man at the left end of the line, Gilbert grinned and shouted, "Eins! Zwei! Drei!"  
One by one, the Jews dropped; as shots rang out loud and clear, blood coated the dock and spilled over into the ocean, so thick that it sat on top of the water instead of sinking or mixing into it. Ludwig stood, transfixed with horror. He could feel his stomach acidify and churn in revulsion at the occurance, and felt as if he was going to be sick.

Spattered with the red substance, Gilbert and the other approached the last victim. He laughed in a nearly demonic way as his brother's eyes widened just a bit.  
"Ludwig, come! We will destroy this disgusting beast together!"  
He was handed a pistol and pushed toward the Jew by the Nazis, who were laughing endlessly.  
She was beautiful. Long, wavy blonde hair framed her small, porcelain-like face. She stared at Ludwig with huge green, hopeless eyes; she'd already given up. And she was only about five years old.  
Ludwig held the pistol to her temple but refused to look at her.  
"Eins!"  
He couldn't believe that he was going to do it; he had never killed a child, and had never wanted to.  
"Zwei!"  
His once firm grip on the gun faltered as thoughts of doubt ran through his mind. His hand shook slightly. His head held voices that shouted and screeched in opposition.  
"Drei!"  
The little body held a surprising amount of blood. It felt hot and viscid; sticky, dark red fluid covered the dock and the coat of Ludwig as he stood, looking at the scene in astonishment.  
Her body was splayed at odd angles on the dock. Damaged and useless, Ludwig looked away in disgust as he kicked the corpse into the blue water that was waiting below.


	2. Chapter 2

Ludwig was awoken by a loud, droning shout. Drenched with sweat and with the remnants of terror racing through his mind, the blonde was hyperventilating, panicked and scared. He lay back down with a groan, the pillow feeling cool against his warm, sticky forehead. The shout that had awoken him was his own. He couldn't fully remember what he'd dreamt. Calming down, he caught vague wisps of a dream that lingered in his otherwise barren mind, but they were much too transparent to make any sense of.

It'd been that way for a while; Ludwig was accostumed to having night terrors. Waking up screaming, gasping for air. His stomach feeling empty, his chest feeling heavy. He felt ridiculous for it. Being afraid of something that wasn't real? That only existed within the confines of his dark, depraved thoughts and twisted, damaged mind? It frustrated him to immesurable amounts, and as he lay on the soaked mattress, breaths slowing, he was able to salvage and conjure only one memory of the nightmare: blood.

Gilbert stared into the mirror with a smirk. It was nearly Midnight, and the moonlight served as the only light source in the room. It wasn't the only thing that illuminated him, for he was practically glowing with pride and conceit.

He had done well this week. He'd killed a superabundance of the damned parasites. Happily massacred them one-by-one, loving the terror that had been etched on their faces. But no words could truly explain, truly capture the pure euphoria he felt whilst killing. His weapon did him no justice either. The pathetic pistol was imprecise. Imagining what he could do with a knife - an axe, a mallet, a razorblade, a scalpal, a chainsaw - sent delighted little shivers down his spine. Oh yes, he had done _very_ well in the past week. But it wasn't good enough.

Despite his vanity, despite his hubris, he felt lacking. He felt empty. He was never satisfied with merely killing the vermin. No, he wanted more. Much, much more. He wanted to hear the sad little pleas of a Jew begging for it's pathetic life. See the disgusting, pitiful insect writhe in pain, dirt, intestines, feces, at his own doing. Methods such as gas chambers and concentration camps were useless and did naught. He wanted to slaughter them intimately; feel the blade pierce their skin and continue, digging into the flesh, twisting into the meat. Feel the blood, warm and thick, pool around and smother his helpless victim as he destroyed them slowly, watching the light behind their eyes dimmen until it was no more. He longed for it, _lusted_ after it, to break a Jew completely by hurting them, drawing out the pain intricately. His body _ached_ at the mere thought.

Smiling cruelly at the blade he toyed with in his hands, Gilbert bit his pale lip. Tomorrow, he'd go to Poland and conquer it completely. There, he'd have an endless selection of the repulsive playthings. They would all beg for death once he got his hands on them. But he would make them suffer. Maybe then, the emptiness he felt would dissipate. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so hollow.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault that his chest tightened, aching with every step. It wasn't his fault that his legs burned from running all day, the pain bringing tears to his eyes. It wasn't his fault that everyone around him was dead, despite how desperately he wanted them to be alive. Despite how terrified he was, how _alone_. No, none of this was his fault. So why was he blaming himself? The blonde had been running for hours. His muscles were tense, sore. Raw and stinging and screaming in protest at every step. But he could deal with it; he'd been through so much worse. If he didn't run, he'd die, and then it would all be pointless. So he soldiered on.

The air was smotheringly stagnant and reeked of blood and burnt flesh. The scent of blood not only surrounded him, but covered him. He was drenched in the substance, some of it pouring out of his mouth, over his pale lips and carelessly dripping down his chin. Some of it wasn't even his; the blood of his comrades, his friends, his _family_. He couldn't think about that now. It made his chest tighten even more.

"Halt."

Fear shot through his veins. He couldn't breathe. He stopped without a second though, his eyes cast down. He wouldn't be able to look at the Nazi without doing something he'd regret. He was done; his body was sore with cuts and bruises. He was weak. He was done.

"What's your name?" The Nazi hissed, his voice laced with amusement.

"Feliks."

The Nazi eyed him, his long fingers grabbing Feliks' chin and tilting his head up harshly. "You're coming with me."

His heart stopped, realization sinking in, his pulse racing. He was going to die.

**A/N: Sorry it was so short and boring! I just needed to get the introduction of Poland over with- The next chapter will be much more... ****_fun_****. Promise. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. Please continue to do so! This story is going to get crazy.~**


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